It must be working for you or you'd change it

I have often thought that if a film crew followed me around, it would be the most awesome sitcom on TV.  Not only am I really funny, but really funny things happen to us and my kids say and do super random things.

I wish I could remember to write everything they say down.  But I keep forgetting.

Peyton calls her belly button a BEE-LO Button.  She also loves Power Rangers and watches them on the iPad.  Only she thinks they are called "Power Asians"  Go, Go Power Asians she sings.  I thought... she says that because she doesn't know what Rangers are.  And then I thought...  but she doesn't know what Asians are either.  So funny

Kaleigh thinks her name is KK Janes Lund.  And she has named her blanket, which is a female by the way.  Her name is "Boket".  And Boket has personality features, like she enjoys laying on the right side of the couch and she enjoys smelling good, so I have to wash Boket ALL THE FREAKIN' TIME.  With the blue smelly stuff.

Ryker calls the neighbors cat a TITTY.  And he takes his diaper off every 10 seconds.  Putting it on backwards is NOT enough.  We have to put it on backwards and DUCT TAPE it.  He knows he's naughty because when we change him he will say "where da tape?"  Like he knows he can't control himself.

I pondered my life on a daily basis.  It's pretty rad.

I wake up at 5:45 every day, so I can be to the gym at 6:00.  I usually wear exactly the same clothes that I crawl out of bed wearing.  Which is usually a pair of Raleigh's basketball shorts and a big t-shirt.  I hate the gym.  I hate the gym scene.  I am bitterly angry at girls who have cute little outfits on that match and who take pictures of themselves in the mirrors, flexing their muscles to put on their Instagram.  (More on this later).  This morning I am wearing white sweatpants that have remnants of last night's dinner spilled down the front of them.  I am tempted to get a wet washcloth and eliminate the stain, but that would require me to have to search for a washcloth with the light of my phone and that is too hard.  I put my hair into a pony tail on the very top of my head and I eat a tic tac and off I go.  9 times out of 10, I forget to put my bra on and don't realize it until I am walking up the stairs to the treadmills.  I hate every second of my time there.  It's too early and my body is too old and everything hurts.

I come home, shower, put on an outfit that I don't love and meet Morgan in the car.  I have to drive Morgan to school every day.  She has had some bad experiences on the bus.  And driving her to school is how I can show her that I love her.  Unfortunately, her school is literally the furthest point from our house of any school in the district.  When we get there, I have to drop her off in the parking lot at a specified location that is a significant distance from the school.  I don't know why.   I'm a pretty hip mom, relatively speaking.  Apparently, I am still embarrassing.

 Then I am off to Harmons.  If they have good bagels, I buy 2.  One for breakfast and one for lunch.  Good bagels are lightly cooked and are almost doughy.  If they are dark/overcooked and hard, I glare at the bakers and walk away in disgust.  Essentially, they have just ruined my day.  And now, I have to go to Plan B...  which is like yogurt and a banana or something.  And.... I am in a bad mood.

I then go to Swig.  I order a water with extra ice in a cup that I have retrieved from the floor of the back seat of my car.  If I do this....  It is FREE.  And the "Swiggers" get annoyed with me, for ordering something that makes them have to do the same amount of work, for NO MONEY.  I love ticking the "Swiggers"  off.  They are kindof a snooty bunch.  No matter who it is that hands me my drink says....  "here you go, have a good one"  in a Valley Girl Accent.  One of these days, I am going to get up the courage to ask...

 "a good one, what"?

What if I'm on my way to have a Pap Smear?  Have a good Pap Smear?  Is that what you are saying to me?  Why can't they say  "have a good day?"  Have a good one, is so insincere and non-specific.

Then I venture into the office.  I am ALWAYS the first one there.  My boss said to me the other day, "why are you the only one in this company who is ever on time to anything?"  I like being there by myself.  Sometimes, I talk outloud.  I say funny things and crack myself up.  The first thing I do is check my calendar to see what people have put on it for me to do.  I am always relieved that I don't have an 8:00 am appointment.  Because if I do....  I have missed it.   I should always check it the night before, but I don't.  I have been lucky so far.

I go about my day, doing what ever it is that I have to do that day.  It's always different.  I meet really whacky people.  Who live bizarre lives in bizarre lifestyles.  Everytime I say "well, now I have heard it all...  someone will say or do something to top it."   I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.  Truth is, it really makes me feel good about myself.  I think....  "wowza, there are some really messed up people out there,  I am doing okay.  My house is really clean.  I smell good.  My kids are well taken care of.  I speak well and I am not weird."

When the clock strikes 4:30, I am outta there and you'd think the hardest part of my day was over, but you'd be all kinds of wrong.  I ponder whether I really want to get started on the second phase.  It is so hard.  It usually begins at the store.  Where I weave up and down the isles praying for inspiration on which meal I will dazzle my family with this evening.  My choices are so limited.  And nothing sounds good to me.  I'm a frenzied mess by the time I walk out to the parking lot.  There are too many people in my way and whichever meal I have selected is total disappointment and I am not excited to cook it.

I am greeted at the door when I get home by no less than 3 babies who are NOT of a baby age, but sure act like it.  Most of them are complaining about a multitude of First World Problems... like I don't have black shoes to match my black coat or one of my siblings came into my room and took my designer HUDSONS or my comforter is bugging me, I've had the same one for like 2 months now and I need to change it.  They bombard me at the door and before I can even get in the house 3 steps, I am overwhelmed with....  "Why do I always have to babysit?"  "Can you take me somewhere?"  "Can you sign something for me?"  "I need my jeans washed."  "I am out of shampoo."  What's for dinner?   Oooooooooo...... gross, you know I don't like that"   The kitchen looks like a trash bomb went off and left the debris of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich Crusts, Oreos with the Double Stuff Filling sucked `out of the middle, empty soda cans etc.  I know that not only will I have to clean up the after dinner mess, but the after lunch mess and the after lunch snacks mess.

Peyton is stripped down to her skivies like she is EVERYDAY.  Kaleigh has some sort of elaborate, unmatching outfit complete with necklaces and hair bows and shoes on the wrong feet.  Ryker is asleep in my bed, in a diaper that is two hours overdue.  I put a towel underneath him just in case it doesn't make it through the nap.  Every toy we own is on the girl's bedroom floor, unplayed with.  My iPad is playing "What Does the Fox Say" on Youtube on their bed and has been for an hour... over and over.

The thing is....  I can turbo through this house in NO TIME FLAT.  In 33 minutes I am putting dinner in the oven, the kitchen is cleaned up, the bedroom is picked up and one or two of the girls is in the bath.  I am still in my work clothes.  None of it has phased me.  I have been doing this for 18 years.  I am happy to do it.  My hard working hubby comes home every night for dinner for ONE hour.  It is the only time I will see him this day, as I will be out cold by the time he comes home for the night.  Sometimes he tries to talk to me and I say incoherent, hysterical things.  One night he brought me a rice krispie treat from Maverick and he put it on my chest and I cuddled it like it was a teddy bear.  He took a photo of me and he randomly sends it to me because he thinks he is SO FUNNY.  I love our dinners together.

 Unfortunately things like going to Enrichment Night and learning how to grind wheat is the VERY LAST PLACE on this earth that I want to go.  Equally or WORSE.... Visiting Teaching, or the ward party or Picnic in the Park.  I feel completely guilty about it, but I am almost the walking dead and I just want to stay home because clearly it's a little piece of Heaven.   My mom says there will be time for that stuff at a different time in my life.  I will patiently wait.

I finally sit down somewhere between 8:45 and 9:00, this is when I sign stuff and help with homework (if it's not math).  I check my Instagram.  I have 30 people that I follow.  This is because I am NOT a friend collector and I really don't give a crap what some girl I knew in the 10th grade is eating for lunch.  I only follow people who interest me.  I do venture sometimes to my friend's- friends.  People who I don't know.  Sometimes that is fun.  Although, I have discovered a couple of Insta-personalities that drive me NUTSO.  Here are some examples:   The mom of three, who is as skinny as a rail, mostly because she works out and lets face it, she has a smokin' hot body....  we all know it....  but unfortunately so does she.  So, we get to look at Insta pics..... like her daughter on the bathroom counter all dolled up for the day with the smokin' HOT mom in the mirrored back ground in a wayyyyyyy too overly sexy pose for the time of day/situation/for crying out loud go do some laundry or something.  Looking all hot.  And WE ALL know the photo has NOTHING to do with the poor child on the counter.  It's all about that mom.  And I can only wonder how many dozens of photos were taken before she got the right one to post.  The one that showed the greatest butt angle or the deepest cut bi-cept muscle.  I know it must be hard to flex correctly while holding a camera.

 Or the same type of chick who "bought some new pants, only she doesn't lay them on her bed and take a photo of them, instead she does leg lifts for like 2 hours, then she puts them on... curls her hair... sucks her stomach in, stands all sexy and takes a photo of herself in the mirror.  YUCK LADY.... give us a break.  Just be real.  What she really needs to just say is this...

"Here I am..... and guess what?  I am looking AH-MAZE-ING again.   If you want, you can leave me a comment and tell me all about how great I look, or how jealous you are of me."  

I really need to stop looking at those people, but it's like a train wreck, I can't look away.  I can't wait to see the new creative way they publicly display/promote themselves.  I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE selfies.  But really?  Not those kinds of selfies.  You are SO transparent.  Am I the only one who can see right through you, Chica?

I finally crash, usually on the couch, sitting up, with my mouth hanging open and a little bit of drool coming out.  And this is how my husband finds me.  I am sure he stands there....  looking at me.  Wondering how he got so lucky.  He wakes me up and tells me to go get into bed.  Who am I to argue with the man?  He is the Patriarch of the family, afterall.  None of the kids are asleep.  So he gathers them up, puts jammies on, gives everyone a drink, tickles their faces, talks sweetly to them until they fall asleep and puts them to bed.  Do they stay there?  HELL NO.  Somewhere around 4:00 am, I wake to discover 2-3 children, who at some point in the night have joined us in our magical bed and of course, chose to lay sideways rather than the correct way.  I have been kicked in the back no less than 4,000 times and I have a tension headache from laying on the very edge, trying to stay in the bed and not fall on the floor.  I crawl half dead to the bunk bed in girls room where I find my sweet husband who's been there for an hour.

And that's my day.  It's not real purdy.  But, it's NEVER dull.  I love it.  I love every part of it.  Dr Phil says "it must be working for you or you'd change it."  And he's right.  Either I really love it or I am too blasted tired to put forth the effort it would take to change.

Bottom line is...  I am in love,  I am blessed, we are healthy and life is good to me.